Here are glimpses of some of the victims of the Sept. 11 attack on the World Trade Center.

IVAN PEREZ

Using Weekends for Fun

If you ask people what Ivan Perez was like, the first thing they say is how he loved being with his children, Darleen 12, and Ivan Jr., 11. Mr. Perez did not live with them and their mother, but every Saturday he would show up at their apartment in Brooklyn, and Darleen and Ivan would literally knock him over in excitement. Then the fun began. Usually, there was lunch, a movie, roller skating. The three made a lively group. There were arguments because Darleen loved the Yankees, and the two Ivans were Mets fans. Mr. Perez, 37, was a hugger, too.

Last December, Mr. Perez got engaged to Eileen Flecha, a co-worker at Fiduciary Trust International, and everyone remarked how nice she was with the children. On Sept. 11, Mr. Perez was on the 97th floor of 2 World Trade Center in operations, and Ms. Flecha, a trader, was on the 94th. Mr. Perez's family speculates that after the first plane hit, he delayed leaving so he could get Ms. Flecha. Now they are both missing.

On Saturdays now, Mr. Perez's brother, Edgard, goes to see the children. ''I try to keep their minds busy,'' he said.

Raymond Metz took merciless ribbing at work for his taste in sports teams. What could he expect? He worked in New York and yet rooted enthusiastically for Boston. Not just the Red Sox; the New England Patriots were his football team. The Bruins were his hockey team. Mr. Metz even had season tickets to the Patriots.

''So he was very popular in downtown Manhattan,'' said his wife, Patrice. ''It made for a lot of sports bets.''

One of the reasons Mr. Metz and his wife picked Trumbull, Conn., to live with their two young daughters was that it made the trip to the New England football games more palatable.

Mr. Metz, 37, a currency broker for Euro Brokers, was born in Ohio, but his family moved to the North Shore of Boston when he was young. He was the state champion in the hurdles in high school and continued to play hockey and ski as an adult.

When you're a Boston sports fan, you need to protect the tradition, so he was methodically indoctrinating his daughters, Natalie and Halie. ''It was working,'' his wife said. ''He used to get them all the paraphernalia from the Boston teams.'' But he would settle for indulging in their interests. As his wife put it, ''He was equally happy painting the girls' nails and playing with Barbies while watching a hockey match.''

JOSEPH D. MAIO

A Meticulous Dresser

Joseph D. Maio had a bit of a competitive streak. His wife, Sharri, remembers playing Monopoly with him one Christmas: he was hoarding real estate, so she cashed in and quit in disgust. When she sat near him at the blackjack table in Las Vegas, covering her eyes, he suggested she move away rather than bring him bad luck.

Mr. Maio was tall, hazel-eyed and a meticulous dresser. In his mid-20's, he headed a desk for Cantor Fitzgerald in Tokyo; by his early 30's, he had started a lucrative new desk for Cantor in New York. He was fair-minded, Mrs. Maio said. Friends sought his advice. And he never complained about anything -- except his dry cleaning.

But there was another side to Mr. Maio, who was 32. When the Maios' not-yet-house-trained puppy came down with a cold, Mr. Maio slept on the kitchen floor in his pajamas rather than let the dog sleep alone. When his son, Devon, was born 16 months ago, Mr. Maio wept with joy. He would take baths with Devon until his hands were wrinkly. ''He was just a beautiful man, inside and out,'' Mrs. Maio said.

Colleen Barkow's job at Cantor Fitzgerald was to help oversee the building of things -- including, most recently, the firm's cafeteria. ''She was very proud of that,'' said her father, Thomas Meehan.

But over the past several months, she was using her talents to help oversee the building of something that mattered much more to her: a new home, for her and her husband, Daniel Barkow, in a virtual forest of a plot in the Poconos.

The couple were so proud of their project that they even started a Web site so friends and family could watch it rise. They were going to brave the two-hour-plus trips to work because they loved the place so much. They were supposed to move in on Oct. 1.

''I have an empty house now that she designed and built and she'll never get to live in it,'' Mr. Barkow said.

Dates have become very important for him. He and his wife, 26, were married on Sept. 17, 2000. Rescue workers recovered Ms. Barkow's body on Sept. 17.

The only recent consolation for him has been that his wife's rings -- her engagement ring, wedding ring and the diamond ring he had just given her for their upcoming anniversary -- were found and returned to him.

Mr. Meehan said that his son-in-law had the rings repaired and now wears them on a chain around his neck.

DARRYL L. McKINNEY

Wanting to Go Further

When Darryl L. McKinney was growing up in Soundview in the Bronx, his mother used to call him Dennis the Menace. He was the type of child who, as she puts it, ''always ventured out.'' He wanted to go further, discover new things. He seemed to sense that no matter what he thought about doing, he might actually be able to pull it off.

Mr. McKinney's childhood was not easy. His parents split up, and he and his brother and sister spent eight years living with relatives, apart from each other. Mr. McKinney dreamed of becoming a professional basketball player. He took his team at Elmira College to the college finals and got a bachelors degree in political science and a masters degree in education.

Mr. McKinney, 26, worked as director of a youth program in the Bronx, then as a district manager for Coca-Cola, said his mother, Rubina Cox-Holloway. Several years ago, he became a brokerage clerk at Cantor Fitzgerald. He was preparing to take the test on Sept. 22 to become a broker, and was engaged to a fellow Cantor employee, Angela Rosario, who was also lost in the attack. ''He would have had his license and would have begun his career,'' Ms. Cox-Holloway said. ''I think he did pretty good, coming out of the South Bronx, an African-American man.''

FRANK REISMAN

The Perfect Daddy

When Frank Reisman was single, mountain climbing was his passion. The summer after the end of college, he hiked the Appalachian Trail alone from Maine to Pennsylvania, picking up dry food that his parents, George and Evie, mailed to him at post offices along the way.

After Mr. Reisman married, family was his focus. Every evening around 6:15 he returned home, where his wife, Gayle, and their two children, Kasey and Dillon, always waited for him to have dinner.

Living in Princeton, N.J., and working at Cantor Fitzgerald on the equities desk, Mr. Reisman, 41, was the perfect suburban daddy, his wife said. He coached Kasey's softball team and took Dillon to golf on the weekends. He taught them how to download music from the Internet and ferret out useful information. Because he left home before the children got up for school, he always sent them online messages from work.

On the morning of the attack, he phoned his wife, who happened to be out jogging. He reached his mom. ''He said: 'I'll be fine. Don't panic, Mom. I love you,' '' Evie Reisman said, as tears welled up in her eyes.

JOSHUA POPTEAN

Inspiring Hard Work

To pass ''the Josh test'' at Bronx Builders, a new employee had to be very good. Of all the project managers, Joshua Poptean was known as the most exacting, the man with the most indefatigable appetite for work.

He came across as defiant and argumentative, but new employees and clients alike quickly realized that his crustiness masked his fairness, loyalty and hearty sense of humor.

Mr. Poptean, 37, moved to Portland, Ore., from Romania with his family when he was a teenager, and he embraced his new country. He joined the National Guard; at a family reunion this Fourth of July, Mr. Poptean, an adored uncle, was the first to leap up and sing the national anthem. In New York City, he became deeply religious. He drove a taxi, learned carpentry and made his way to Bronx Builders, where he rose, eventually overseeing sites, including a bar for Windows on the World, on the 106th floor of the World Trade Center.

In the chaos of Sept. 11, Bronx Builders' supervisors around the city reported they were shutting down for the day. Finally, one supervisor, an immigrant himself and a protg of Mr. Poptean's, called in from Brooklyn. His crew, he said emphatically, was continuing to work.

ROBIN LARKEY

Keeping Everyone Laughing

Some days were boring. At the Cantor Fitzgerald offices, the trading would be lackluster because everyone was awaiting a Federal Reserve announcement or some such market-epochal event. So the brokers would be grumpy.

Not Robin Larkey. Unfailingly, he would resuscitate the mood with one of his Monty Pythonesque one-liners. ''He kept everyone laughing nonstop,'' said Patrick Edwards, a good friend. ''What a sense of humor he had.''

Mr. Larkey, 48, was a Cantor currency broker, who lived with his wife and three sons in Chatham, N.J. Another thing about him was that he always stood up for the underdog.

An error has occurred. Please try again later.

You are already subscribed to this email.

Mr. Edwards remembers being in a bar some years ago when a loud-mouthed drunk was really giving it to the female bartender. She tried to quiet the drunk, but he got more boisterous. Mr. Larkey stood up and very effectively upbraided the man.

The man left. Good thing. Back in his native England, Mr. Larkey was a skilled boxer. Legend has it that he once knocked out a future Olympic silver medal winner.

Mr. Larkey had to be at work early, but he always abided by a little ritual. At 6 a.m., before he left, he would make tea and toast and take it to his wife, Tracy, in bed. In truth, she might doze off without eating, and then later put the tea in the microwave, but she adored the thought. As he left, using his nickname for her, he would say, ''I love you, Plum.''

LAWRENCE KIM

Appetites for Food and Life

Nov. 22 would have been Lawrence Kim's 32nd birthday.

His appetite for food mirrored his appetite for life. He loved doughnuts, wine, hot dogs from New York City vendors and his sister's pancakes. But his favorite was General Tso's chicken, which he would cook for his father.

He also had an appetite for knowledge. He drank in the world around him -- teaching himself German so he could read Freud in the original. He also owned several versions of Martin Heidegger's ''Being and Time'' and could quote from Goethe's ''Faust.''

But he embraced pop culture along with philosophy. One time, his co-workers opened the door to his office to find him blasting Celine Dion and singing along at the top of his lungs. He could recite the lines from the movie ''Philadelphia'' after watching it two dozen times.

He was a chronic workaholic. Security guards at Time Warner's Tampa offices were once alarmed because Mr. Kim's car had been parked in the same place for eight straight days while he had been continuously working on a project. That discipline carried over to his new job at Marsh & McLennan. Parking records show that he arrived between 7:30 and 8 a.m on Sept. 11, his second day of work.

SEAN T. LUGANO

A Disciplined Winner

''I called him my perfect child,'' Eileen Lugano said of her second of five, Sean. He was the one who slept through the night, the one she never had to yell at to do his homework. Even as a small boy, he had unusual discipline. After his first swim meet, when he practically drowned, he vowed he would beat the kid who had won by the next meet. And he did.

Sean T. Lugano, who was 28, was a fierce competitor and a born winner. He was captain of the Xavier High School football team and captain of the Loyola College rugby team. He had more than 50 swimming medals. But, given a chance to try for the Olympics in swimming, he declined, his mother said; he enjoyed too many other sports.

Mr. Lugano loved a challenge. He was a snowboarder, he had parachuted, he ran the New York City Marathon. But he was also the only child who never missed the weekly Sunday dinner in the Luganos' apartment in Stuyvesant Town in Manhattan.

He was a trader with Keefe, Bruyette & Woods and a partner in several bars, but he still toyed with the idea of becoming a teacher, like his mother.

''He was very, very charming, too,'' his sister Kristen said. ''The ladies in Stuyvesant Town just adore him. Ladies in this building were just distraught about this whole thing.''

Anthony Savas had seen a lot as a young man. He had served in Korea, where he saved a friend who stepped on a land mine. ''He wasn't one who wanted to see the world particularly,'' said Phaedra, his wife of 42 years. ''He had seen enough of it.''

Instead, Mr. Savas was content moving between his home in Astoria, Queens, his job as a construction inspector with the Port Authority and his beach house on Long Island's North Fork. ''He was 72, but he refused to retire,'' Mrs. Savas said. ''Every couple of years he'd tell me that he'd retire in a couple of years.''

He looked at least a decade younger than his age. He worked out on a rowing machine. He loved cigars. He woke at 5:45 every morning to head for work.

''He was a very up guy,'' his wife said. ''If I fought with him, he would never stay angry. He would come back with something to make me laugh and forget about it.''

Most of all he loved going to his beach house with his three children and two grandchildren. ''Every morning when we were there, he would march to the flag pole with Jessica -- she's almost 3 -- and they'd plant the flag,'' Mrs. Savas said. ''He used to just put out the flag on holidays, but when he was with Jessie he'd do it every day. I don't know why. Sure, he was patriotic, but I guess it was also a way to bond with Jessie. We're trying to save pictures and mementos to keep him alive for her.''

SALVATORE B. CALABRO

Honoring a Struggle

Here is one thing that says a lot about Salvatore B. Calabro: He wore a tattoo of a cross and roses on his right forearm, with the inscription, ''In memory of Mom 11-30-89.''

His mother, Connie, struggled to raise him and his two brothers on her own; he never forgot.

Mr. Calabro made his mother proud, a good boy from Bath Beach, Brooklyn, who wore a firefighters' uniform for 14 years, said his father-in-law, Francis Carillo, a retired New York City police officer. Mr. Calabro, 38, built a solid middle class life for his wife, Francene, and two sons, Daniel, 5, and Alexander James, 2.

Another thing that spoke to his essence: He was a good son-in-law. It had nothing to do with toeing the line because he married one of two daughters of a police officer. He was just that way, Mr. Carillo said. ''When I met him, I had guarded feelings,'' said Mr. Carillo. ''He was marrying my baby daughter. But as I got to know him, all of that went away. He became the son I never had.

''He was a gentle person, but he had the heart and courage of a lion,'' Mr. Carillo said.

WAYNE ALAN RUSSO

A Trip Unrealized

Wayne Alan Russo never got to Egypt. He had been to China, Japan, Russia, all over Europe -- he was planning his eighth trip to Italy for early November -- and returned on Sept. 2 from India. But some sort of trouble always blocked the trip to the pyramids.

At home, he led an organized life. He gave blood several times a year, and supported a child in Africa. He took the bus from Union, N.J., where he lived with his parents, every morning at 6:30 to arrive early for his accountant's job at Marsh & McLennan. He went to almost every Giants' home game since Giants Stadium opened in 1976 with his father, Arthur Russo. And there were the Yankees. He and his family saw them beat the Red Sox on Sept. 8.

On Sept. 11 Mr. Russo, 37, was to have had dinner with Cheryl Marx, who had been in the group that went to New Delhi, Jaipur and Agra. They never got to exchange photos. But they did receive each other's postcards, sent from India on that last trip. Each said ''Egypt next year.''

FREDRIC NEAL GABLER

A Yearning for Community

Fredric Neal Gabler's idea of heaven was to live surrounded by his friends, on the same block or perhaps in some suburban compound. Friends sometimes thought he was joking when he talked about this dream of ''communal living,'' but he meant every word, his family says.

It would have had to be a sizable place. More than 1,500 people, including his sister Jolie and his parents, Howard and Leslie Gabler, attended his memorial service on Sept. 23 at Temple Beth Torah in Upper Nyack, N.Y. ''He was happiest when he was surrounded by the ones he loved,'' his wife, Mindy, told the crowd.

This dream compound would also have been neat and comfortable. (Mr. Gabler and a college roommate once traded blows over the roommate's refusal to meet his housekeeping standards.) And it would have been filled with the sounds of sports -- part of the glue that held his friendships together.

Fred Gabler, 30, an equity trader at Cantor Fitzgerald, met Mindy when they were both 16. His sports-hardened good looks and his father's Camaro were the first attractions, she told his friends, but his loving nature, honesty and sense of humor kept her at his side. They lived in Manhattan and were expecting their first child, a daughter, this month.

At his memorial service, his father -- who escaped on Sept. 11 from his own offices in the World Trade Center -- told mourners that the only thing missing from his son's life ''was length.'' Taking in the overflow crowd, he said, ''You are his eulogy.''

The Confirmed Dead

Following are the names of the people most recently confirmed to have died in the World Trade Center disaster, according to the New York City medical examiner's office, which said the victims' families had been notified.